


Bury Me In Satin

by VultureLovesong



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Date Rape, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, Rape Scene Between a 13 Year Old Girl and a 17 Year Old Boy, Rape/Non-con Elements, TRIGGER WANING!!!!!!!, angst and hurt, dark story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-25 19:12:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6207088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VultureLovesong/pseuds/VultureLovesong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sexual education in schools is near non-existent, and sometimes the innocent pay the price. No means no, no matter how quietly it is said, no matter how weak the fight.</p><p>If you need help, visit this website: https://rainn.org/get-help/national-sexual-assault-online-hotline</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bury Me In Satin

## Bury Me In Satin

 

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a little girl, and in her veins there was wishes and dreams in place of blood.

If you were to ask her she would claim she wasn't pretty like her sisters, nor would she say she was talented, or outgoing. Just a shy invisible girl in a sea of invisible people trying to pretend they mattered. She was no more or less important than any person, be they beside her, or far away. The girl was just a girl, and that was all. And despite her own thought on the matter, the girl was pretty to others though, even dressed as she was in out of fashion hand-me-downs and thrift shop clothes, with her fair freckled skin and her shoulder length mousy brown hair. It was her eyes that drew people to her though. She had eyes so blue it sometimes seemed as if someone trapped a clear winter sky inside a crystal and split it in half to make her eyes.

She was naive too, grown up in a house where her family watched no television, and she wasn't allowed to play on the computer very often, and only ever educational games rarely online at all, so she often felt lost in fast growing the modernity of the world around her. Maybe, had her parents let her learn on her own, or had they taught her, she would have known what to do. She would have been able to protect herself, but back then sexual education was even more of a taboo, and her school did not teach until it was already too late.

It was October 06, 2009. The girl was in her choir class, laughing with new friends, when he came. He was tall, and older, and popular, always smiling, and the girl had a crush on the senior boy since school started. She was elated and surprised when he asked her to go out with her to a park after school, and of course she said yes. She was only thirteen, turning fourteen at the end of the month, but thirteen nonetheless. She had no thoughts on sex, no interest in the subject, but she did have dreams of kissing. That day as school went by she wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

The events of that afternoon would not be the first time someone had touched her without her wanting it. Her dad's long time girlfriend had a friend, and the girl often had to entertain her son, which was around the same age as her. Between the ages of seven and ten, the friend's son would put his hands under her shirt or up her skirt even after she said no, and he did this often before their family moved away and lost contact. Nothing more than his grabbing her ever happened, and she remained quite innocent despite it. The events of that afternoon were not anything so innocent as a child's curiosity.

That day, after she got home from school, she tried to dress in nice clothes. She did not own anything attractive to wear, traditional or otherwise, but she did her best. She was buzzing with glee as she walked down from her home to the park, her books in her arms since she was expecting they would just be studying, maybe kissing or holding hands, or some other naive girlish fantasy. And he was there, smiling that same smile.

The girl and him sat there and talked at first, aimless and changing topics, and soon he has his hand on her leg, his other arm around her shoulders. She's nervous then, the fluttering butterflies in her stomach just as fast as her frantic heart.

"Kiss me." he says, and she does.

She has never actually kissed anyone though, so he chuckles when she pulls away immediately. He cups her chin in one hand and draws their lips together. The kiss changes then, not as innocent as the older, more experienced, boy takes control, guiding her actions. She likes kissing like this, being devoured like this. It's nice, nothing like the soft press of lips a parent gives a child. The girl sees it as a special kiss, and she tries to follow his example, to taste him as he tastes her.

Then his hand slides up her shirt. The girl freezes and pulls away. "Umm, I'm not really comfortable with this." She says, pushing his hand back down.

He moves his lips to her throat. "It's fine." he says. He leans back. "Take of your shirt." He orders.

The girl bites her lips. She's scared now, her mouth suddenly dry, the frantic butterflies dead in her stomach. She doesn't know what to do. She wants to say no, wants to tell him to keep his hands to himself, but she hasn't ever dated anyone before. What if this is a test? What if this is something normal girls allow? She doesn't want to come off as prude. She doesn't know exactly what the word means, but judging by the way her friends say it, she suspects it is not a nice thing to be. Whore is the other thing she hears. That sounds even worse. Eventually she hesitantly nods.

"But nothing bellow the waist." She states firmly. It's good to have boundaries, especially when you are so terrified and uncomfortable you think you might throw up, she decides.

He nods, smiles that bright as the sun smile again, but now she doesn't feel anything but cold. She wonders if other girls feel this way, if it gets easier.

He has her lie back on the park bench, the cold air tickling her bare skin, the rough jean of his jacket under her, his hands on her, like his exploring, greedy eyes. "You're beautiful." he says. The girl doesn't think he really means it, and she wonders what he will ask for next, because she isn't beautiful. She gets her answer soon after, when he first bites, then pulls at her nipples.

"That hurts." She tells him sincerely. He doesn't apologize, just does it again, gentler as if that will make it better. Her heart thuds in her throat.

He sits back up. "Come here." The girl lets the boy guide her in between his legs. He unzips his pants. "Don't be nervous."

She isn't. She's frightened. She's cold. She thinks maybe saying yes earlier must have been a test, and she thinks she failed. His smile is not the sun. His smile is the sharp rocks at the bottom of a cliff, the waves crashing menacingly against them.

"I don't want to do this." She tells him.

He pulls her closer, pulls her head forward, and kisses her so that her protests are muffled when he brings her hand down onto him, guiding her actions as she tries to pull away.

"Let me go." She whispers.

He kisses her again.

"Please."

He guides her to her knees. The thud they make is the Earth splitting in two.

"You're shaking." he says. She knows.

"Please." She says again. "Don't."

"Open your mouth." he tells her. His eyes are not kind. He is not asking. He is ordering again.

"No." She says.

He groans then, and uses his fingers to open her mouth for her. "Relax." He says. He pulls her down with a desperate noise. Her mind is screaming. He is hot in her mouth. "Watch your teeth." She scrapes them harder when he moves her head again, and he huffs before pulling her up. There is the sharp sting of salt water on her cheeks.

He stands. "Come here beautiful." He says. He turns her so that her back is against his chest, and he guides her down, so she is leaning down over the picnic table, hands on the surface.

The blood is rushing in her ears. She is ice, stiff and unyielding, paralyzed in her fear. He is fire, hot, and destructive, and melting her away like she never mattered. The boy undoes her pants, batting her hands away and putting them back on the table. "Beautiful." he whispers, trailing hands over her newly bared skin.

"Please stop." She begs softly.

"It's okay to be nervous your first time." He say, as if trying to be reassuring, and then he is inside her, and the world ends.

The waves crash against the mountains, tearing it down bit by bit. The sun burns the drought stricken dessert. Hands grab, breath comes in harsh noises on her back, and a little girl screams but no sound comes. She is drowning but no one notices. Like being suffocated in satin, a lie of kindness not able to hide the danger. It hurts. Not like crashing her bike hurt, but more inside, where the screaming and the frantic beating, and the sobbing is happening. She whisper chants soft into the roaring wind and rush of blood in her ears. "No. Please. Don't. Stop. Please. No. No. NO."

"Beautiful." He lies. "So beautiful."

And then it is done, and he is looking down at her with eyes falsely sweet, joking about something as he strokes himself the rest of the way done. She mutters an excuse, anything to get away, any reason to flee.

"See you tomorrow."

It sounds like a threat.....

Once upon a time, there was a little girl, and in her veins there was broken glass and sharp bleeding rocks in place of blood.


End file.
